Page 72 of Tainted Tempos

I gesture to the entire butcher block island we’re seated around, papers scattered between us. “Take whatever you need. But what is it?”

Mr. Byrne shakes his head. “Too early to tell but I’ll loop back.” He stands from the barstool and shoves some documents in his bag.

The front door slams closed, and Mr. Byrne and I exchange a look seconds before Mckenna enters the kitchen.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she hollers, glaring at us. “I asked you for space.” She points at me. “And you for time to let me think.” She gestures toward her father. “And the two of you go behind my back and try to make more decisions for me? I don’t need you to do this. I was getting along just fine on my own before either of you started meddling!”

“Shit,” Mr. Byrne mutters. “Jeannie told you I was here?”

“Yes!” Mckenna yells. “She thought it was sweet that the two of you were meeting for breakfast. The second she said it, I knew.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you would go behind my back. Again, Maverick. Have you learned nothing? Do you not care what I want? I don’t need you to rescue me. I can rescue myself! At least, I’d like to think I can. To prove it to myself. And you keep taking that away from me.”

“Of course I care what you want.” I stand from my barstool and reach for her.

She shuffles back a step.

“I care about you more than anything, Mckenna. But I’m not willing to let this shit with Bran slide. I’m not going to look the other way while you mentally catch up. He’s a fucking threat and I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“Even if it pushes me away?” she counters, her blue eyes flashing.

I almost smile. Because there she is. My Mckenna. Spunky and sparkling and full of that sass that she only directs at me. God, she’s a sight to behold and I’ve missed her so fucking much.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to lose you, beauty. But I could never live with myself if something happened to you, and I could have stopped it but didn’t.”

“He loves you, Kenny,” Mr. Byrne tries.

I never thought a woman’s dad would stick up for me but it’s nice to hear Mr. Byrne attempt it.

Mckenna glares at him. “Don’t get me started on you,” she says boldly. “I’m furious with the two of you. I thought we were making progress,” she says to her dad. “I thought you were understanding where I was coming from.” She whirls toward me. “And you both did what you wanted without any consideration for my feelings. Again!” She throws a hand in the air.

Then, she points at me and a look of pure determination flits across her expression. “I meant what I said, Maverick. I want a break. Don’t follow me.”

She ignores her father completely, probably because she’s going back to his house, and storms out. The front door slams behind her.

I sigh heavily and Mr. Byrne shakes his head.

“She’ll come around,” he mutters.

“I’m not sure this time,” I admit. There was something about the look in Mckenna’s eyes—the acceptance in them—that tells me I’ve overstepped one too many times. That this time, she won’t be as forgiving. That this time, I went too far.

She ignores me.

Over the next week, my wife pretends I don’t fucking exist.

From Mr. Byrne, I learn that Mckenna is attending classes. She’s showing up on campus, doing her schoolwork, and seeing her therapist.

But she isn’t taking my calls, or responding to my messages, or including me in her day-to-day life.

I fucking hate it. I miss her. And I understand that I shouldn’t have been so secretive, so intent on doing things my way.

But it seems like I can’t win with Mckenna. I can’t win with anyone.

Each night without her, the silence eats at me. It wriggles under my skin and moves through my body like an itch I can’t scratch. I feel restless, angry, hopped up on adrenaline.

I try running. I try writing. Hell, I even try fucking singing.

But after fruitless hours in the studio, I give up. I need to get the hell out of my house before the walls close in on me.

With nothing to do and nowhere to go, I slide behind the wheel of my ride.

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